


time-honored traditions

by MegTheMighty



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Amestrian equivalent of Valentine's Day, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Mid-Canon, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Romance, Snapshots, Young Royai
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:21:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29441082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegTheMighty/pseuds/MegTheMighty
Summary: Amestrians practice plenty of traditions on the annual Day of Lovers. Throughout their lives, Roy and Riza celebrate the romantic holiday together and find that those old traditions lasted for a reason, as they could suit even the most unconventional love.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 27
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**1903 - In rural regions of Amestris where agriculture is the primary way of life, it is traditional to plant crops or do other acts of service for your sweetheart on the Day of Lovers, signifying long-lasting commitment and the ability to provide.**

Riza blinked her eyes open and immediately regretted it. The light filtering in through her worn curtains felt blinding, ripping through her skull to worsen the throbbing that extended from her forehead around to her neck. She blinked a few more times, trying to force her eyes to adjust. When her vision came back into focus enough to look over at her clock, she gasped.

Every morning, she woke up with the sun and began whatever work needed to be done. Whether she was off to school or doing chores around the house, Riza never slept in. But somehow, the clock was telling her it was almost noon and she was still dreadfully, painfully tired.

Her stomach lurched as she sat up and hurriedly got out of bed. That helped distract from her pounding head and scratchy throat, but after a moment Riza was so disoriented she had to grab onto the nightstand to stop from collapsing. Her reading lamp swayed dangerously, threatening to fall over from the jolt of her hand hitting the table, but it settled back in place before she could reach to steady it.

Resting her head in her hands after sitting back down, Riza groaned. “I can’t be sick today. Any day but today.”

She knew her father would be in a foul mood as he always was, but the holidays only made him worse. In particular, the Day of Lovers made him the most miserable, as it reminded him of his late wife even more than Riza did. She learned early on that appeasing him and making sure everything around the house went smoothly was the best way to avoid his wrath, but she couldn’t do that if she was bedridden, if she was a burden. 

Forcing herself up once more, Riza managed to walk over to her closet and pull a heavy robe on over her nightgown to ward off the chill. The floorboards creaked as she slowly crossed the room again and sat down at her desk. She hoped that if he came to find her, she could at least pretend to be studying so he wouldn’t accuse her of laziness. 

The knock from the hallway made her back immediately straighten as she scrambled to pull out a book or a pencil. 

“Miss Riza?” a familiar voice called. “Can I come in?”

She sighed in utter relief at Roy’s words, safe in the knowledge her father hadn’t arrived just yet. 

“Yes,” she answered, realizing how rough her voice sounded. 

The door creaked open and Roy stepped inside. He scanned the room to search for her before his gaze finally found her at the desk. 

“I thought I heard you get up,” he said worriedly. “You need to stay in bed.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t make breakfast, but I just woke up,” she explained. “Were you waiting outside?”

“I was, but I-” He stopped for a moment. “Do you not remember when I checked on you this morning?”

“No.” Riza’s eyebrows drew together in a furrow. She didn’t remember anything past falling asleep the night before, when she skipped her nightly reading out of exhaustion.

Roy moved toward the desk and reached out to support her elbow as he beckoned for her to stand. “You don’t look as feverish as earlier, but you still need to rest.”

They only made it a few steps toward her bed before Riza pulled away in protest. “I’m fine, really. I just need to eat, then start on my work. I’m already late.”

“I’ll go get you some tea and toast,” he promised, “just lay down.”

“I can’t,” she insisted, voice cracking under the strain. “There’s so much to do and you know how my father will be if I rest all day. I need to prepare dinner, plant the potatoes, clean downstairs, and-”

“I’ll take care of all of that.”

“All of it?”

“Yes, as long as you take care of yourself.”

That gave her pause. It struck Riza that no one else in her life would do so much for her. Her father certainly wouldn’t, while most other people in town were kind enough but simply didn’t ever think to reach out and help her. Berthold established himself as a strange, disagreeable recluse quite soon after moving to their sleepy town, so the Hawkeyes were hardly popular. It made her heart constrict thinking of how Roy, the boy with whom she seldom spoke, would be so caring.

“Miss Riza, did you hear me?”

“Yes, sorry,” she answered hurriedly, stowing away her thoughts for later when she wasn’t so dizzy and distracted. Riza took the remaining few steps back to her bed, pulling her robe tighter as she swayed again slightly. 

“Please don’t faint!” Roy exclaimed in a panic. He darted toward her, but pulled back awkwardly as if he didn’t know if he could touch her. His hands hovered between them restlessly, ready to catch her if she fell yet hesitant to get any closer.

“I’m fine,” she insisted once more, but still gently set herself down on the mattress. It took most of her strength to lay back slowly rather than simply plop down, tempted as she was. 

“Alright,” he sighed, visibly relaxing. “I’ll be right back.”

Riza watched as he stepped out, leaving the door slightly cracked open behind him. Roy would have seen her bedroom in passing throughout the months since he started staying in the house, she supposed, but clearly they both found it awkward for him to actually be in it. They couldn’t spend much time together anyway and weren’t particularly well-acquainted, though she didn’t mind his presence. It was strange at first, but Riza realized she had become accustomed to it, in the same way the summer sun slowly but surely warded off the lingering chilly edge of winter. 

Roy’s footsteps sounded on the stairs to signal his return a few minutes later. He held the small tray that Riza usually brought up to her father, with her favorite teacup and a small plate of food on top of it. She had to clear her throat with a harsh cough before thanking him and accepting the small offering. Her stomach would protest, but Riza knew she needed to try to eat even if she had to force it down. 

“I guess I should go start on all that work then,” he said softly, a hint of rare humor in his voice.

“Oh, right.”

“Don’t worry, I think I can handle it. My aunt always made me do chores back home.”

“Have you ever planted anything before?” she asked. Even if she didn’t mind him, perhaps even quite liked him, Riza still knew Roy was a city boy. “Or cooked?”

“Well…” His confidence dimmed under her critical stare. 

Even pale and weak as she felt, Riza knew she could be intimidating. She softened her expression slightly and let out a ragged breath.

“Mrs. Hansen down the road might be able to help,” she wondered aloud. “She’s kind, and when I tried her cooking before it was good.”

“I’ll see if I can find her then,” he replied. “But honestly, Miss Riza, just eat then rest. You don’t need to worry at all, I’m trying to take care of you.”

Roy gave her a prodding look, waiting for some response.

“Okay.”

He nodded, apparently satisfied that she would listen to his instructions and take it easy. His hands tucked back into his pockets as he shifted back and forth on his feet. They simply stared at each other for a moment, until Riza looked away and reached for her tea. She took a tentative first sip, noting that he probably should have steeped it longer from the weak flavor. At least the thought was there. A hint of lemon came through as well, and she wondered if he really had remembered that was how she liked it.

“It’s good,” Riza said after the warm liquid cleared her throat.

Roy cracked a small smile, nodding again, then turned to leave. He pulled the door open, almost stopping when it creaked loudly.

“Wait, Mr. Mustang,” she said suddenly. Using the formal title felt strange on her lips after that morning. He wasn’t just her father’s apprentice, not anymore. He was much closer to something like a friend.

“What’s wrong?” He stopped and turned around, brow furrowing in concern.

“I just wanted to say…thank you,” she whispered. It could be attributed to the soreness in her throat, but at heart Riza knew it was because she didn’t quite know how to say it any louder. She never had reason to thank anyone when no one ever helped her in such a way.

“Oh, no need to thank m-”

“Thank you, Roy,” she repeated. “Really.” 

She tried to offer a genuine smile, but it was still difficult with the way her stomach was rolling. He returned her gesture with a toothy grin of his own, a sight she had never seen directed at her before.

“Of course Riza, you’re welcome.”

The rest of her day was spent eating some toast then sleeping, then drinking some water and sleeping again. The throbbing in her head eventually softened to a dull ache, while her stomach settled enough to keep taking small bites whenever she could. Despite her illness, Riza was grateful for the ability to simply close her eyes and forget about the rest of the world for a few hours.

She would hear a rare movement from around the house, but Roy promised to take care of everything and she trusted him to try. Apparently her father was holed up in his office and refusing to leave again, so they were safe from his judgement. Voices carried up the stairs from her kitchen, alerting Riza to another person in the house. A high-pitched laugh told her it was Mrs. Hansen, likely in the kitchen helping prepare dinner. 

It was strange to think that in all her years, Riza would never have willingly gone to anyone for help. Yet she sent Roy off right away and he didn’t hesitate to ask someone who was practically a stranger. He had lots of family back in Central, she recalled, so maybe he was accustomed to that sort of thing. Her father raised her—though in truth she raised herself—to rely on no one and nothing. No one would be willing to truly be there for her anyway. 

Except…apparently Roy was. Riza had no idea what other tasks from his apprenticeship he was neglecting, but something compelled him to help her. 

“Riza?” The door opened enough to reveal Mrs. Hansen’s warm face.

Lost in thought, she hadn’t even noticed the footsteps approaching her room.

“I hope you’re feeling a little better, dear,” the older woman said softly. “My Molly had a terrible sickness last week, but it didn’t last long. We’re hoping that’s what you’ve caught, not any of those nasty plagues going around the east.”

“I’m sure I’ll be alright,” Riza replied quickly. She didn’t really want to think about the rumors of disease spreading across the countryside.

“Oh, of course you will,” Mrs. Hansen laughed. “You’ve got that boy taking care of everything, and you should honestly get him to do more of the labor around here. He seems more than happy to do it.”

She handed Riza the small bowl that had been tucked under her arm since she walked in, and the smell of squash soup wafted up to the girl’s nose. 

“We’ve been wondering how long it would take,” she continued blithely. “It’s so obvious he’s been sweet on you for months, and then today of all days this happens.”

Riza dropped the spoon she had just picked up, letting it clatter against the edge of the bowl. “Oh no, he was just being kind. We hardly talk to each other, he wouldn’t feel that way.”

“Don’t be silly, Riza,” Mrs. Hansen chided. “It’s a tradition to do all those acts of service on the Day of Lovers, and your Mr. Mustang worked harder than anyone I’ve ever seen, even my own husband. You know, planting potatoes symbolizes the hardiness and richness of love. I believe you have a keeper.”

“He wouldn’t know any of that, he’s from the city,” Riza insisted, feeling heat rise to her cheeks despite her fever going down hours ago. “Besides, it was only because I’m sick.”

Mrs. Hansen simply hummed in response, looking down skeptically. “You’ll understand someday. For now, eat and rest up. You can call for me again tomorrow if necessary.”

She stepped away from Riza’s bed, absentmindedly looking around the room. Her eyes lingered on the almost-empty closet and threadbare rug, but didn’t say anything about them. It certainly wasn’t a secret that the Hawkeyes were poor. 

“I’ll leave you be,” she finally said. “Think about what I told you.”

With that, Mrs. Hansen was out the door, heading down the stairs and returning to her own peaceful, happy home. Riza quietly finished her supper, grabbing the handkerchief that inexplicably found its way onto her side table to wipe her nose when the spices began to clear her sinuses. 

It was difficult to keep track of time when she had nothing to do for once, but the slowly dimming sunlight told her that soon it would be an appropriate time to fall asleep for the night again without feeling overly guilty. As much as she regretted forcing all the housework on Roy, Riza was secretly pleased at breaking her annual tradition of acting as a maid to appease her father. Trying not to think too hard about how sad it was that being ill was a welcome break from her typical routine, she pulled the covers back once more. With her fever broken, throat cleared, and stomach settled, her only real concern was sleeping away the headache and fatigue.

She was reaching to turn off her lamp, resigned to another night without reading, when the squealing from the door hinge announced Roy’s entrance. He smiled sheepishly and held up a glass of water.

“I thought you might need this,” he explained, slowly crossing the threshold.

“Thank you again, so much.”

“It was nothing,” he waved off. Roy set the glass down next to her and stepped back again, almost exactly recreating his awkward stance from earlier. 

“You don’t have to be so anxious,” she said with a hint of humor. “We’re...friends, aren’t we?”

She caught the way his posture tensed for a moment and he swallowed thickly. “Of course, right. We’re friends.”

“I really am grateful for everything, Roy,” she continued slowly. Riza wanted to genuinely thank him, but she simply couldn’t shake Mrs. Hansen’s words. “I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t around, I really owe you.”

“I didn’t do that much, just plant some potatoes. And you don’t owe me anything, maybe just a good meal once those vegetables are harvested.”

Riza forced a smile, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he would even stay that long. Most of her father’s apprentices stuck around for a few months to learn the basic principles of alchemy, then went off to live their lives somewhere far away from her small town. He wouldn’t be any different, probably returning home to Central before the summer sun could actually banish the remaining chill in the air. She expected it would just be herself that fully warmed to Roy by the time he chose to leave.

Forcing those worries down, Riza nodded. “I’m afraid I can only make boiled potatoes, so that will have to do.”

“That sounds excellent.” Roy flashed another bright smile, taking her offer as a promise.

She thought for a moment that maybe he really would want to stay. Whether he saw her just as a friend or something more, as the gossipy older women in town seemed to think, she wasn’t quite ready to see him go so permanently.

Riza watched as he walked away, then turned back once to wave. “Can I check on you in the morning?” he asked. “We’re still not sure if you’re completely recovered.”

“You really don’t have t-”

“I know,” he interrupted quietly. “But what if I want to? Would you mind?”

“No,” she replied. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Alright. Goodnight Riza.”

“Goodnight Roy,” she replied, “and happy Day of Lovers.”

He paused at the door, but didn’t turn back. She was grateful for that because she could feel her cheeks suddenly flaming red in embarrassment. They made it through the whole day without mentioning the romantic holiday and she instantly regretted bringing it up at all. She was forced to wonder whether he really did know about their silly countryside traditions and the whispers Mrs. Hansen would be telling the town. 

His head turned just enough so that they could quickly make eye contact, but Roy only held her gaze for the briefest of moments before looking away again. 

“Happy Day of Lovers, Riza.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting posted way later than I wanted but life happens so there was a bit of a delay. It's here now though!
> 
> And apologies for any random typos, most of this was written at ridiculously late hours and my editing brain is broken rn lol. But I still hope you enjoy :)

**1915 - A tradition that Amestris shares with many other countries, giving flowers on the Day of Lovers is a sign of affection, especially when the gifter selects the recipient’s favorite variety.**

Riza walked down the half-lit hallway, acutely aware of the silence that hung in the air between the sound of her footsteps. She was only running a quick errand, but every moment spent away from her desk was an opportunity for something to go wrong. Silence didn’t mean emptiness, as she had learned over the past few months, and the shadowy presence that lingered in the corner of her eyes never went away. Half the time she wasn’t even sure if Pride was really there, or if she was just becoming more and more paranoid. 

Whether he was watching her or not, Riza preferred to stay in plain sight. Central Command was full of all sorts of people, and she knew it would be much harder for any of the homunculi to reveal themselves while she was shielded by dozens of witnesses. 

The fuhrer’s office was situated far from the basement archives she had been sent down to, making the trip back almost unbearably long. She rounded another corner, grateful for the few fellow officers wandering down the new hallway. They represented signs of life, real people that would go about their days with no knowledge of inhuman, immortal beings or coming days of reckoning. 

She couldn’t help but think of her days alone throughout her childhood, when she would pass people at the market and they would nod in acknowledgement but rarely speak a word. Once again she lived under a man whose wrath she feared, going about daily mundane tasks to stay in line and keep him happy. These fellow soldiers, and the people of her town, were kind enough and even well-intentioned most of the time. But they didn’t _know_. No one knew her life in its entirety.

Except, of course, for the one person who bothered to learn her, study her, and know everything about her. Colonel Mustang was a good superior to everyone under his command, but it was always obvious they had something truly special. Whether anyone else privately speculated that they were particularly close friends or secret paramours, it didn’t matter. They were both well aware, sometimes painfully so, of the immense trust, respect, and love that bound them.

Riza knew her colonel was likely somewhere in that very same building, that he could be around any corner she turned. As much as the thought of seeing him warmed her, it scared her more. Looking into his eyes and seeing the understanding that always resided there would feel so good for a moment, but then it would be gone. She hated how desperate and lonely she felt after their last encounter, when they spoke only in code for a few fleeting minutes. It wouldn’t be enough until she could return to his side permanently.

With that on her mind, she gripped the folder in her hands tighter and turned into the next hallway that would lead back to the heart of the command center. Instead of unexpectedly running into her former superior, she found herself facing the hulking figure of Major Armstrong. She quickly saluted him and looked up to meet his eyes.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye, I haven’t seen you in quite a while,” he greeted. “I trust you’re doing well.”

“Yes sir,” she answered quickly. “And yourself?”

“I can’t complain, I suppose.” There was something in his tone that caught her interest. Armstrong was always an enthusiastic and passionate man, but his serious and contemplative side to which Riza had been privy was throwing through.

“I usually prefer to spend these holidays with members of my family, but besides my oldest sister, they’ve all taken a holiday east to Xing,” he continued. “Unfortunately, Olivier is quite averse to the Day of Lovers.”

Admittedly, Riza completely forgot the significance of the date. She had been so strained under pressure that she didn’t have much chance to think of anything other than plans for the Promised Day and taking care of Black Hayate. It didn’t escape her notice that Armstrong mentioned his family leaving the country though, and she was glad to hear they were somewhere safe. They would never be used against their loved ones like her.

“I don’t celebrate it much myself,” she replied. “I don’t have any close family and I don’t date.”

Armstrong nodded, but Riza could see the slightest quirk in his eyebrow at her excuses. The man could be subtle when he wanted to be. He was one of the privileged few who knew of her relation to General Grumman, and he was observant enough to know how close she was with Colonel Mustang.

“No matter,” he said. “The Day of Lovers is spent just as well among friends, or trusted colleagues. You’re never short of those.”

Riza might argue that she felt very short of friends, what with her team spread across the country, and none of her colleagues in the Office of the Fuhrer could be trusted. But the gleam that never failed to brighten Armstrong’s eyes was there again, and she knew she wasn’t alone. Riza had an ally in him.

“Are you on your way back to the fuhrer’s office? I’ll escort you.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned to continue down the hallway toward her final destination. Riza took a few quick steps to catch up with his long strides so she could follow a single pace behind him and tucked the folder back under her arm. They walked in silence, passing more soldiers and earning a few odd looks. 

The windows allowed more sunlight to filter in, making the building seem much less dark and dim. It only took a few minutes for them to approach the center of the complex, but Riza was grateful for the company. Just a moment where she felt a bit of warmth to stave off the punishing loneliness would have to be enough.

As they finally reached the corridor that held the fuhrer’s office and the surrounding private rooms, Major Armstrong rounded to face Riza directly. She saluted again, and this time he returned the gesture. 

“Have a pleasant day, sir.”

“You as well, lieutenant. Remember what I said.”

With that, he left.

Riza stood stuck in place for a moment, wondering if the major knew how much his small gesture meant to her. His footsteps continued to echo in her ears even as he disappeared behind a set of doors that led back toward the courtyard. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. 

A few people were gathered around the set of desks directly outside the fuhrer’s office, and they eyed her with curiosity as she approached. One woman stepped back from leaning over a desk to wave at Riza.

“Lieutenant, you’re finally back,” she greeted with a smile. “We saw you talking to Major Armstrong back there.”

Her conspiratorial tone reminded Riza too much of Rebecca. Sergeant Brooks was a typist for many members of the top brass, but she was just as spirited and charming as any other woman one might meet outside the military. Her gossip occasionally caused trouble, but it was mostly harmless rumors about interpersonal relationships or who would be promoted next. Riza took note of the other woman’s teasing, and she couldn’t help but feel the loneliness seeping back in again. 

If they met under different circumstances, Riza might have wanted to introduce Annie Brooks to Rebecca Catalina and watch them immediately hit it off. Perhaps she could eventually become another trusted friend. People like Rebecca had the ability to bring out the best in those like Riza. But Riza simply couldn’t bring herself to trust anyone that worked with the fuhrer’s close circle. Sergeant Brooks could be a spy, a plant that was meant to gain her trust. Denying herself a friend only made her miss Rebecca even more. But as paranoid as she felt, it was for her own survival. 

“Did he escort you all the way back from the archives?” she pressed, oblivious to the lieutenant’s thoughts.

“We ran into each other near the cafeteria,” Riza answered. “I’ve been acquainted with Major Armstrong for a long time, he was just catching up a bit.”

Annie let out a low hum, crossing her arms and tapping a finger impatiently. “Well he seems like quite a gentleman. Maybe he’s the one that left you flowers.”

“I’m sorry?”

Riza heard a soft snicker from one of the other soldiers behind her. 

“While you were gone, a delivery arrived at your desk,” Annie explained in excitement. “It’s this lovely bouquet, and—oh, what are your favorite kind of flowers?”

“Daffodils,” she lied. The other woman’s face fell slightly in disappointment.

“Well it’s a shame he didn’t get your favorites, but they’re still beautiful.”

Riza cleared her throat as she brushed past to approach the doors to the fuhrer’s inner office. “I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding. All deliveries go through my desk, so they’re likely not for me anyway.”

She pushed open the doors, leaving the group behind and barely catching Annie’s slightly rejected expression at her dismissiveness. Riza took no pleasure in it, but it was part of her reputation after all: cold, blunt Lieutenant Hawkeye. Her moment of understanding and fellowship with Major Armstrong was over, and she was pulled back to the routine of keeping to herself and following orders.

Riza schooled her expression as she stepped into the office, not wanting to give Bradley the satisfaction of seeing her sulk. The room was empty and she realized his meeting concerning a recent skirmish in Fotset must have run long. Her eyebrows drew together as she remembered poring over reports from the south, silently praying she wouldn’t see Fuery’s name among the dead.

Forcing away that thought, Riza placed the folder she fetched from the archives onto the fuhrer’s desk, then turned toward the corner of the room where her own station was located. Annie hadn’t been lying, as a beautiful bouquet sat waiting among her paperwork and spare office supplies. 

Riza’s heart stuttered for a moment as she took in the bright yellow petals and unusually long stems. The golden color was not that of daffodils, but sunflowers. There remained only one person who knew her true favorite flower, thanks to the simple lie she told Sergeant Brooks. There was only one person who saw her study field guides for hours and fall asleep with the same page always open, _Helianthus annuus_ bolded across the top. Who pressed petals for her in an old history textbook her father had all but forgotten. Who researched the symbolism and told her how they represented adoration, loyalty, and a brighter future. Who once wanted to send her flowers when she had to refuse.

Knowing her moment of privacy wouldn’t last long, Riza ran one of the long petals between her finger and thumb, savoring the soft feeling. A few of the blooms had been flattened against the table as the bouquet lay down, so she picked it up gently. The simple tan paper that surrounded the flowers made the deep green bow tying it all together pop even more. As she lifted it closer to her face, a small piece of paper fell back onto the desk. Riza reached down to flip it over and read the words printed on the other side. 

If Colonel Mustang had been with her, she would have given him a stern look, and maybe even reached down to rest her hand on her sidearm in a half-joking threat. If anyone else was there, she would quickly look away and try to ignore it. But she was completely alone, with no one studying her reaction. Not even Pride’s presence hung around her.

So Riza smiled, and let out something akin to a laugh. Maybe even a giggle, as much as she would deny it. The moment of pure happiness and lightness that arose from reading the words surprised her, but she couldn’t help it. With the insidious conspiracies and inhuman threats that plagued her life, she had to cling to the moments when she simply felt seen, understood, loved.

She couldn’t keep the bouquet. That much she knew. It seemed so simple to keep the flowers on her desk then walk out of Central Command at the end of the day, carrying them home to nurture and cherish. But that could raise questions. It would be an act of rebellion that she didn’t want to risk just yet. Instead, Riza approached the fuhrer’s desk again and laid the bouquet next to the folder, the card tucked neatly back into the fold.

She returned to her own desk and set about starting her afternoon work, dutifully keeping her eyes from wandering back toward the sunflowers. It didn’t take long for Riza to regain her intent focus on the paperwork in front of her. The mundane reports hardly gave her any useful information, and reading them felt more like busywork given by a schoolmarm than the job for an accomplished lieutenant.

“Hawkeye, you’re back,” a deep voice called behind her. 

Riza was surprised she didn’t hear Bradley come in from the side door that led to his private meeting room, but sometimes his movements were so swift and exacting she could hardly perceive them.

“Sir.” She stood and turned to salute him. “The documents you requested are on your desk.”

He sat down heavily in the ornate chair, idly examining the folder in front of him for a moment. His eye shifted to the right and widened slightly. 

“Are these for me, lieutenant?” he asked, the dry amusement obvious in his tone.

“Yes sir, in a sense,” Riza answered. “They’re for you to give to Mrs. Bradley as a Day of Lovers gift.”

Bradley hummed in approval as he picked up the bouquet to inspect it. He turned it around to view all sides, though Riza didn’t expect him to find any faults. The flowers themselves seemed to be of exceptionally high quality, and she didn’t think he was the sort of man that would particularly care. He plucked the small card from the middle, eyeing it carefully.

“ _To my first lady_ ,” he read aloud. “These will do fine. Thank you, lieutenant.”

Riza nodded, taking his appreciation as leave to return to work. She sat back down and busied herself again, trying to resist the temptation to take one last look. She knew she hadn’t properly admired the vibrant yellow or the pleasant symmetry of each flower. She wanted to look into the deep brown center and remember how it felt to admire the way the color matched her own eyes for the first time. She wanted to savor what the gesture meant and why it mattered so much on the Day of Lovers.

Determined to distract herself, Riza shifted in her chair and reached over to grab a new pen. She almost didn’t notice how her leg brushed up against something sitting on the ground as she changed positions. Slowly pushing away from the desk enough to get a good look, Riza couldn’t stop the corners of her lips from pulling upwards. Hidden beneath her desk, a simple glass vase sat waiting to be taken home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to let me know what you think :) 
> 
> I really like thinking about Riza's time under Bradley and how it would affect her, so this was a small glimpse into my interpretation. Plus it's also fun to examine her other relationships, like with Armstrong, the team, etc, even when the main focus is technically Royai (and I couldn't resist bringing up the flowers, it's a classic). She's developed a lot since she was a teenager with essentially no one else in her life, but the instinct to isolate to protect herself is still there. But other friendships are so important and I wanted to make sure that was also brought up a bit with the Valentine's Day theme - tell your friends you love them!

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something for Valentine's Day and unfortunately I wasn't able to complete the entire story in time, but the next two chapters should be here soon. I'm excited to share the other snapshots in Roy and Riza's future, but of course young Royai had to come first :) I hope you liked this first bit, and feel free to leave a comment if you'd like!


End file.
